Lola
by Jasmine FoxFlame
Summary: A story of one girl's fight against a galaxy of trouble...(Based on an rp I did)
1. Default Chapter

-Lola-

Author's Note: Please let me know if you think I should carry on with this story…Any comments, crits, reviews would be apprieciated..*S* Thanx- Jazz

Disclaimer: I do not claim to own the rights to any of the things you recognise. Of the things and places you don't, I take responsibility for the character of Lola, and most of the ships. The other characters that are unknown belong to their players, however long ago they played them. Any, and ALL resemblances to actual people are coincidental.

Anyone nicking my story, will be hurt!!! Badly!!! So don't do it!! If you wish to reproduce any parts herein, email me first with a reason for even wanting to, a'ight?!

Lola-

Prelude.

Greetings to you traveller. I am Lola, Lola Skywalker. You may know me as the youngest daughter of the Empress Leia Organa Solo, or you may not. Indeed, at this very moment you may be thinking, "Empress Leia?!" or, "Didn't Han and Leia only have three children?" Well, I will do my best to explain my existence.

As many know, and have testified as much, the Force works in mysterious ways, and many have speculated that one element of it that has baffled Jedi for eons, is its relationship with time. It is believed that in certain circumstances, the power of the Force can split reality, creating multiple realities, so that each separate reality exists beside the others. The implications of such a notion are that in another time and reality, I do, in fact, exist, and have merely crossed over into your reality. If this is the case, and you have no idea who I am, I'll tell you a little about myself, before I begin in earnest.

In my reality, which is more than likely in the future of yours, I am nineteen years old. I was born on the Ewok planet of Endor, to a humble barmaiden - Already I can see your brow furrowing in confusion, but be assured, all will become clear as my tale unfolds.

I began my Jedi training at an early age, and it was soon apparent that I possessed an exceptional talent for channelling the Force through my mind. Indeed, it was no uncommon sight at the Imperial Palace, New Alderaan, our main time home, to see whole battalions of ornaments and precious statues parading down the west wing, where I had my room.

Needless to say, my childhood had been a happy one, although this was more due to my tendency to do just as I pleased, rather than comfortable living. Indeed, my mother abandoned all hopes of my becoming an Ambassador for the Republic long ago, accepting that if I wished to become a pilot like Dad, then this was just what I'd strive to be. And when news reached the palace that a land speeder bearing the Royal insignia had been spotted outside some infamously disreputable tavern or other, Mother would simply look at me, hopelessly shaking her head, whilst Dad would shrug, saying something like, "Well, at least she's not into smuggling." Then, he'd turn a pair of anxious eyes on me, as if to say, "Please tell me you're not, Princess." At which I'd just laugh. A phrase I often heard from behind the closed doors of my parents' chamber was, "Lola does as Lola wants." Those words made me giggle with so much delight, that they were to become my motto through my teenage years.

Please, don't misunderstand me now; I was never bad, or wicked, I just tired of things quickly, and was merely always on the look out for new and exciting challenges. I guess, deep down, I was always a little uncomfortable with royal duty, and the like. And although I loved, and still do, my brothers Jacen and Anakin, and my sister, Jaina, there was always some sensation that I was different to them, somehow. But I could never, quite, define the feeling, and had difficulty understanding it myself, let alone explaining it to others.

I suppose that frustration at this, played a small part in the manifestation of my rebellious ways, but truth be told, the main reason I refused to be tied to the Palace was because I rather enjoyed my reputation as the "Wayward Royal". Mother's stern warnings were lost on me, and one of my sweetest smiles at Dad was always enough to secure me the use of the Falcon for the weekend. Life was for living, and I loved to live life as dangerously as possible. What follows tells of how, in a relatively short time, my whole out look on life was to change, forever. Maturity, it is said, catches up with everybody, eventually.


	2. Part 1- An Unlikely Ally

Chapter1

Part 1. - An Unlikely Ally.

Ch. 1 - The Time Pirate.

1.

The galaxy stretched out as far as the eye could see, it's vast emptiness looming unsympathetically on the holoprojector screen. From her chair, the girl sighed, as she watched the countless stars, blinking on the black velvet blanket of space, move slowly past them. She craned her neck, hearing it crack in protest as she pushed against the back of it with the palm of her hand. She became dimly aware that she was, in fact, stiff all over, it seemed as if hours had passed since lunch. And, glancing over her shoulder at a chrono mounted on the wall, she realised that they had.

She'd left the dining hall long before lunch had been over, excusing herself for not being particularly hungry, and had come straight to her chamber, after giving her Mother, what she hoped had been, a reassuring smile. She'd been watching the holo-screen ever since, wide eyed with open concern, frowning periodically, in frustration at the failure of her vigilance to turn up any sign of the Millennium Falcon, or the convoy it had been heading. She vaguely recalled telling someone to leave her alone, when they'd messaged her over the intercom, although she had no idea as to who it had been. Possibly her sister, Jaina, and she felt instantly guilty. It was selfish of her to act like the only one who was worried.

Lola Skywalker inhaled deeply, and heaved yet another burdened sigh. She drew herself up, and began to pace about the room, stretching her arms, first to the front and then out behind her, as she did so. Her, usually sparkling, green eyes were dull, and underlined with fatigue. She blinked them into focus, as they became accustomed to the artificial lighting around her.

She turned away from the holo-screen, and crossed to the other side of her room. And, taking a silver comb from the dresser, she began to straighten up her long, copper hair. Not that it particularly needed tidying, she thought, as she numbly viewed her reflection in the full-length vanity mirror.

She was dressed as if for training; a figure hugging, yet non-restrictive, pale blue flight suit, her mauve, half calf, stiletto boots- the leather bound hilt of a small combat dagger could be seen above the top of each one, on the inside leg. Strapped midway down her right thigh was a holster, which housed her blaster, either side of which was a pouch, each carrying half a dozen extra energy cells. The pockets on the left and right lower thigh of her flight suit held a training orb and an organic and mechanic repair kit, respectively. Then, attached to her belt, resting at a slight angle on her right hip, was the piece de resistance; her lightsaber- a sleek affair, constructed of highly polished chrome, it was almost scroll-like in shape, the deep purple cabochon of the Force-channelling crystal just visible at its base. It was true; she looked every bit the nineteen-year-old Jedi-in-training. In fact, the only decorative piece she had allowed herself, was the gold coloured New Republic Affiliation shield, which was buckled around the ankle of her right boot.

She laid down the comb, and moved towards the intercom, intending to apologise to Jaina. She would have done so, too, had not the holoprojector screen caught her eye at that precise moment.

2.

A few minutes later, the blast doors leading into the young Princess' chamber slid noiselessly open, the silence echoing down the deserted corridor. Lola peered cautiously out from her room, and stepped into the silver-grey panelled passage. She paused, alert. Then, opening the floodgates of her mind, she allowed the energy of the living Force to flow freely through its canals.

She was standing, stock still, eyes closed. The expression she wore was one of calm serenity. She had donned a deep purple velveteen robe, which hung regally from her shoulders, enveloping her like a shield. The hood framed her delicate face; shadows caught in its folds creating the effect of shifting waters as it flowed around her copper curls. A blue drawstring knapsack rested limply at her feet- the gold cord entwined around the fingers of her left hand- momentarily forgotten.

Her eyelids parted slowly, revealing fathomless emerald pools of light. They had lost all trace of the tired opaqueness; instead they danced, with a mixture of anticipation and mischief. She smiled a kind of half smile that imitated her Dad perfectly. She knew all she needed to.

"Take it easy, Pops," she said to the empty space. "Help's a-comin'."

She swung the sack into the air, slipped the cord over her head, and, taking a deep breath, sprinted off towards the docking bay of the Royal Starcruiser, her robe flapping furiously behind her.

3.

The holoprojector screen bleeped steadily to itself, almost keeping time with the high-heeled footfalls that were rapidly disappearing down the length of the corridor. Footfalls which, even as they faded off into the distance rounding a corner, seemed to come back on themselves, as the echo of steel pounding on chrome bounced off the wall at the other end of the empty passageway.

The display had been frozen; a section at the bottom right corner of screen had been enhanced, enhanced again, and referenced. It was this information panel which pulsed in and out of view.

It was written in red, which meant that the climate of the yellow planet, whose image was shown on the holoprojector, was, at present anyway, rather hostile. But such information had been irrelevant to the mind of the young Skywalker- she was pretty confident that she could manoeuvre through whatever asteroid storm was out there. No, no what had interested Lola about this particular planet was its spaceport.

Her father, himself, had told her more than once, that if you were ever in need of, how to say, services, there would always be someone willing to sell you them in Mos Eisley, on the desert planet of Tatooine.

4.

Lola slowed to a walking pace as she approached the docking bay of the huge Starcruiser, relieved that she had successfully negotiated her way through the ship without meeting any obstacles that were likely to interfere with, or try to talk her out of, her plans. Not that she had expected to encounter anyone who might dare to do such a thing; her ability to use the Force meant that he could feel the presence of others very much like radio signals- the stronger the individual was, the more audible their signal, no matter the location. Her 'in-tuning' had revealed her Mother and Uncle Luke to be still in the dining hall on the other side of the ship. It seemed to Lola, that they were deep in an emotional discussion, though about what she couldn't tell. She heard Uncle Luke say something to the effect of, "Leia, please, it…it has to be done soon," and decided to leave them in privacy. Her own brothers were sparing with each other, two levels up on the training deck, whilst Jaina, who had been just a corridor away in her own quarters, had fallen asleep, and therefore posed no immediate problem.

There seemed to be droids everywhere; repairing, testing, refuelling, getting under the feet of whatever pilots had decided to tinker with their engines. Under the shadow of her robe, Lola was able to walk through this throng relatively unheeded. Indeed, she supposed, she could quite easily have been mistaken for one of her own handmaidens, Meela, perhaps, or even Solstice.

Hoping that this was the case, Lola strode past her own craft, the impressively agile Midnight Monsoon, and straight towards Destiny Comet 1. Beneath her hood, Lola winced a little, she would have been more at ease in the Monsoon, and felt better prepared should the worst happen, but her situation called for her to keep up her identity of handmaiden. At least until she was well out of the Starcruiser's tracking range.

"Well, well…Miss Ankhrose," a handsome, yet grubby looking, humanoid stepped out from behind the left engine of the one-man J type craft.

Lola cleared her throat. Passing herself off for her flirtatious best friend was going to be harder than she'd imaged; whoever this person thought he was, all Lola wanted to do was break his nose, she couldn't stand when men looked at her like that. But, of course, he wasn't looking at her, was he? She remained calm.

"The l'il Princess gotcha runnin' errands, has she?" he smiled, and winked at her, as he wiped his hands on a cloth that was even dirtier than he was.

This man obviously knew Solstice very well, Lola was suddenly quite aware that if she wasn't careful, she could find herself in deep waters very quickly.

She pulled the hood of her robe a little further over her face, hoping the mechanic didn't notice that Solstice's raven black hair had suddenly become a vibrant, fiery red.

"Something like that," she managed. She did not care one bit for the way this stranger had taken her hand, and was now bent down, with his lips pressed to it. As his eyes looked up into the shadow that was her face, it was all Lola could do to keep from jerking her hand back abruptly. But Solstice Ankhrose would not have done so; Solstice would have giggled girlishly. Lola chuckled accordingly. Quite convincingly too, she thought.

"Fancy a l'il stroll first?" the man advanced, obviously with other things on his mind.

"I'm in kind of a hurry," Lola replied, putting as much of a playfully dismissive tone into her voice as was possible through clenched teeth.

"Ain't that always the way," laughed the man, deftly sliding his hand inside the fold of her robe, and slipping his arm around her slender waist. Before Lola had even the chance to protest, he had pulled her close to him, and his lips had expertly found her own, even beneath the purple velvet hood.

He stepped away, and Lola, having not had time to think about what had just taken place, felt sure her cover had been blown, as she remembered that her saber was still hooked to her belt.

Instead, the mechanic, or whatever he was, just smirked, raising his hand in a farewell gesture, "See ya 'round, Sugar." And with that, merely sauntered over to the opposite side of the bay, and began to polish up the side of Uncle Luke's X-wing.

From the safety of her hood, Lola bared her teeth, - "How DARE he?!" - as she stepped up into the cockpit of DC1. She began to run an operations check, thankful to the Force that the unit had already been lowered into place, behind her, she didn't fancy the chances of her disguise holding up, if she'd been forced to ask- "That creep!!" - the mechanic to load it up for her.

R2 B5 bleeped at her, in protest, as she drew the transparent shield down over a little harder than, perhaps, had been necessary.

"Can it, metal mouth," she snapped impatiently. "Are we ready for launch, or not?"

From behind her, she heard a series of excited little blips, as the twin radial sublight engines of the Destiny Comet fired into life. The R2 unit knew exactly who it was accompanying on this flight.

Lola Skywalker smiled as DC1 hovered in the hangar for a second, and zipped cleanly into the black and silver fields of hyperspace.

"Clever l'il thang, ain'tcha?!" she chuckled to the droid, as she caught her last glimpse of what had possibly been one of Solstice's most recent conquests, who was standing beside the X-wing, watching the DC take off.

5.

Vincent Reeves' mouth gaped, as he watched DC1 exit the docking bay; in all the years he'd known that girl, he'd never seen her so eager to leave, or to throw her ship into hyperdrive quite so early in the take off process. His brow wrinkled slightly, he shrugged and turned back to Master Skywalker's baby.

As he polished, he thought to himself, "Come t' think of it, I ain't niver seen her eyes quite so green." He paused in his thoughts and reread them, sure he was going mad, "Are her eyes green?"

He shrugged again.

6.

Lola laughed out loud, with the sheer adrenaline rush, that came of her having managed it yet again. She was free once more, on her own. Well, at least until Uncle Luke, or her mother, Leia, sensed that she was no longer on board. But, Lola hoped, by the time they found her this time, she'd have managed to get help finding her father, and possibly, even drawn up a plan of action, to rescue him.

Because, he did need rescuing, she was sure of that. Even if no one else wanted to believe it, and had convinced themselves that he'd just stopped off somewhere to meet old friends, Lola knew with startling clarity; Han Solo was in some sort of trouble, trouble that he could neither talk, blast, nor fly his way out of.

"I'm on my way, Dad," she reassured herself. "B5, set our course for Tatooine."

The astromech tweaked a response.

"What kind inference?" she consulted the internal scanner. "There's no sign of any debris out there."

More tweaks, and blips, followed by a long, ominous sounding low-pitched whistle.

"Ok, chill l'il guy. Just point her in the general direction, Ok? I'll worry about gettin' her through…whatever it is that's out there. I can handle it," she sounded convinced, until she added to herself, "I just hope Solstice's DC can."

She chuckled nervously, then shook her head, as if to clear it. Her hood fell back, around her shoulders, and hair like molten lava cascaded down in full, luscious waves. She was still aware of the Royal Starcruiser behind them; it was, however, getting smaller by the second.

"Just make sure you put plenty of space between us and that, before bringing us out of hyperspace, Ok, B5?"

The droid bleeped an affirmative.

"Oh, and record all of our flight information from here on out."

Behind her, B5's domed head span full circle, whilst sensors and lights flickered, comically.

"Alright, alright," Lola laughed at the droid, who was trying to communicate the fact that it was overworked and under oiled. "I just wanna show Uncle Luke, and everyone, that I'm not a kid any more. Plus, if anything goes wrong…"

She trailed off, as she looked out into the void of space. She was suddenly, shockingly, aware that she was not just alone, she was alone in a black place where there were no stars. She turned, looking over her shoulder; her mother's Starcruiser was nowhere to be seen. A look of sheer panic momentarily lighted on her face.

"You are recording this, ri-"

She was cut off as the small J-type was slammed out of hyperdrive. Lola, who, in her hurry to leave the Starcruiser, had not restrained herself properly, was flung into the front facing instrument panel. Her head took the full force of the impact, shorting out a few of the circuits. The last thing she saw through the domed cockpit shield, before she lost consciousness, was, what seemed to be, a solid wall of silver light.

7.

When Lola came to, she saw that the stars had returned. She looked around slowly. There was still something wrong about them. Were the stars too bright?!!

She rubbed her forehead, "Dang. Musta hit something pretty hard back there. Any ideas what it was, B5?" The astromech didn't.

Lola shook her head, still fairly dazed.

"How long was I out, anyways? My chrono stopped on impact," she asked, holding her wrist to her ear.

B5 hummed a little.

"Not that long then, huh?" Lola said, as she glanced at the craft's own chrono display. "Huh?!!" She double-checked the display, after she'd rubbed her eyes. The digits were changing faster than she could read them, as if the chrono were desperately trying to make up for lost time. What was even stranger: they were going the wrong way. Backwards.

Lola looked around once again, even slower this time, at the too-bright -No, at the younger stars. If the air space she had been occupying before she lighted-out had been called Kansas, Lola knew she was not, by any small degree, there any longer.

"Oh, boy," she said flatly, lips trembling slightly, "I think I really did it this time, B5. Just went ahead, and really did it."

B5 whistled, in agreement. This was too eerie, even for a droid.

"I sure hope you were recording back then, Bud, 'cos I don't think anyone we know is gonna stop by, any time soon."

She seemed to notice for the first time that DC1 had shut down completely, the silence was unnerving. As she started the engines up again, she, also for the first time it seemed, saw that the planet of Tatooine was right in front of them.

"Alright, B5, the plan's still the same. You wait in the DC, whilst I look around town for someone willing to part with a ship that's faster than the Falcon, and a crew willing to go on, what's promising to be, a near-suicide mission."

Lola sighed, as she took Destiny Comet 1 down into the atmosphere of Tatooine, and headed towards Mos Eisley.


	3. Part 1- An unlikely Ally

Chapter2

Ch. 2- Trust in the Force

1.

Lola was parched. She'd been walking around the dusty town for hours; the twin Suns had played their ceaseless tag game nearly halfway across the sky, since she'd left B5 and the Destiny Comet at the landing zone. She'd had no joy finding a ship, or a crew. It seemed that strangers were not generally welcomed here, let alone trusted, especially if the stranger happened to arrive in a craft unlike anything seen by the citizens before. She supposed the fact that her lightsaber was in full view, also contributed to the effect of folks falling over one another to give her a wide berth. A very wide berth.

She shrugged. It had been simply too hot to pound the pavements in that heavy robe, at least she'd not actually had to light her 'saber yet. She looked doubtfully up at the run-down, beat-up looking Cantina, shifted the weight of her knapsack, which was once more slung onto her right shoulder, and stepped inside.

2.

The sound of the noisy jazz band hit her immediately, and surprised her so, that she stood for quite a few moments atop the small flight of sandy steps, that led down into the dimly lit Cantina. She took the opportunity to survey the interior.

It was, actually, not as bad as she'd been expecting. Sure, it was dusty and a stench, of sour ale and the gut wrenchings of countless different species, insisted on attacking Lola's nasal passages, but all of the tables she could see looked in relatively good shape. Well, in one piece anyway. It appeared as though the place had, quite literally, been a hole blasted out of the huge sandstone mountain, and there was some evidence of the drunken brawls, that this place had been famous for back in the old days. Which were probably these days, she corrected herself. The back wall, for instance, the one that held up the actual bar, was so uneven and scarred, with blast shots, that the room had possibly retreated a few feet, since the place had been - how to put this- 'constructed'. Looking up, Lola saw that the ceiling, for want of a more appropriate word, was just as afraid of blaster fire, as it had become so unstable that some brave soul had thought to install a coarse web of sturdy wooden girders.

The room, it seemed, was also quite undecided about what shape it wanted to be. It looked to be aiming for a cross between a rectangle and an oval; what it actually achieved, however, was more like a circle, which had been squeezed between someone's thumb and forefinger, so that the ends bulged, threatening to buckle under the strain, creating an attractive pile of rubble. Into the western end had been built a stage, upon which a band, made up of five identical, if strangely evolved, humanoids, played furiously, their lidless eyes barely acknowledging her entrance. Her Dad had once said to her that, this band would carry on playing if the planet were scheduled for destruction, and Lola wondered that they did not demand a cage, or at least some sort of barrier to protect them from other peoples' 'business'.

Descending the steps, Lola noted that, apart from the band, and a rather bored looking bar keeper, she was the only one here. Both the circular tables, scattered about the Cantina floor, and the more private booths, which lined its edges, were utterly empty. She shrugged, someone was bound to drop in sooner, or later, and all she wanted right now was a quiet drink, anyway.

She shook off any uncertainties she may have had, and strode, head held high, over to the bar. Her sitting on a stool at the bar's end seemed to awaken the barkeeper from whatever thoughts he'd been mulling over.

"What'll it be, Miss?" he asked, leaning on the bar top, then added, as if reading her face, "You just hang 'round fer an 'arf hour, or so, folks'll be streamin' in b' then."

Lola didn't really think he believed this, but ordered a Correllian Spiced Ale, anyway. She took it from him, and gave him a handful of Republic credits in return.

He looked at her, and then at the coins in his palm, "Miss, I don't know where ye be from, but these 'ere credits be worth squat on this planet."

Oh, she frowned. He frowned, too. The ale bubbled in the tankard.

"On the house," sighed the little man, as he rummaged around in his pockets.

"Allow me, Lightning, my friend," said a masculine voice from behind Lola. It appeared she had been wrong about the room being deserted.

A crisp note, bearing the profile of some Hutt, or other, - they all looked the same to Lola- was placed on the bar beside her drink, the hand brushing her own and stroking the nape of her neck as it was withdrawn.

"Ain't got me no friends," pouted the barkeeper, Lightning, as he deposited the bill. Lola bristled, as she span, on the stool, to face the second man who'd dared to lay his hand on her that day.

3.

He was a Jedi, she saw, and human. A tall being, perhaps, just a fraction above her own height, and of slim build. This, Lola had already decided, was where their similarities ended. Although, his almost grey eyes had a kind of playful flicker to them, not so dissimilar to the mischief caged behind her own eyes.

His long brown hair was caught back in a loose ponytail, by a length of coarse banther hair cord. He wore his dark Jedi robe open, the beige tunic, worn beneath this, was gathered at the waist, by a wide belt of black animal hide. He flashed Lola a condescending smile, of perfect white teeth, which appeared even more brilliant against the full, moist frame of his oyster-pink lips. He winked at her, as he watched her taking in all of this detail, and Lola blinked, suddenly aware that she'd been staring into his eyes, as if caught in an invisible trap.

Lola could feel the blood rising in her cheeks, yet at the same time boiling inside of her. She struggled to maintain her composure, desperately trying to keep in mind her Uncle's teachings of fear, aggression, anger, and hate being, pathways to the Dark Side. It was at this point, as she was remembering her training techniques, that she decided to perform a Force Detect on the stranger.

Lola gasped in horror, despite all her efforts to remain calm; for the first time in her life, Lola found herself face-to-face with a Sith.

"You have been trained well," said the stranger, still wearing that infuriating grin. "I'm Alc. Yrvron Alc. And who do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

Lola stood, squaring her shoulders, glad that she was wearing her boots, as the extra couple of inches that they granted her, meant that she had to look down on the Sith.

"I am Lola Skywalker, daughter of the Empress Leia Organa Solo of New Alderaan. And this meeting will bring no great pleasure, of that you may be assured, Sith."

"We shall see, Princess," he said, and, bowing, he laid his forehead on the back of her hand, before placing a delicate kiss there also. "We shall see."

Lola pulled away quickly, feeling the soft touch of his lips, long after they'd departed, as if they'd burned into her skin. She looked at her hand, then at the Sith, astonished.

"You are far from home Miss Skywalker," he stated, before adding, " And out of time, I fear."

Lola's right hand reached for her 'saber, instinctively. Alc merely stood chuckling.

"You need not be afraid, Princess. I have no desire to harm you. On the contrary, you need my help."

"I," Lola recoiled, "Need the help of a Sith?! Why, the very idea is laughable."

"Be that as it may, Miss Skywalker, you do need me. Like I said," he picked up her drink, and began to walk casually over to an empty booth, which stood beneath a large and extremely dirty window. "You are out of time."

To her absolute horror, Lola found herself following the stranger and thinking that maybe she did need to hear him out, afterall.

4.

"So talk, Sith," Lola snarled, as she slid into the seat opposite him, "What do you know?"

"First thing, Princess. The name is Alc, not Sith. Believe me, it's not a title I'm proud of." This last utterance was said with an air of reluctance, indeed, the Sith looked almost repentant. Lola, however, was unmoved.

"Very well. Alc." She hissed. "But know this, neither is my name Princess. You will address me by my proper title."

The Sith's grin widened, as he bowed his head, in a mocking gesture, "Yes, Your Highness."

"Whatever," Lola responded, nonchalantly. "Miss Skywalker will be quite adequate. But for Yaddle's sake, what do you know?"

"I know that you're looking for someone," the Sith replied, hesitantly, "Someone very close to you." He paused, expectantly, as if waiting for Lola to confirm the fact. When she didn't, and merely continued to regard him with extreme suspicion, he cleared his throat, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, before he began again.

"You came here- to Mos Eisley, that is, - to seek help?"

Lola gave in, and nodded solemnly.

"And, this is where it gets tricky. Am I right?"

Something in the way that he spoke irritated the girl to her very teeth. He was doing it on purpose, of that Lola was certain, deliberately prolonging her agony. Perhaps, it was the way in which he was so sure of himself. Lola seethed with unrealised rage.

"Yes," she snarled. "This is where it gets very tricky, Sith- I mean, Alc. You see, I know exactly where I am, but not when I am, I have no idea as to how to get back to when I should be, my Uncle's probably hot on my tail as we speak, and fixing to chain my hide to the palace forever. And, as if that wasn't enough, the only person I've managed to find, on this sandpit of a planet, willing to help me, is by his very nature a sworn enemy. Now if that doesn't qualify for predicament of the season, tell me another."

Clear out of steam, Lola inhaled deeply, before taking a generous gulp of Ale. The Sith was gaping at her, stunned at her outburst, and Lola had to admit, she was more than a little surprised herself. It wasn't often that she flew of the handle like that, she was adamant that she would not allow it to happen again, no matter how he tried to push her.

The Sith was about to make a response, Lola saw, when he was silenced by a crowd of rowdy workers entering the cantina. Lola followed the mob's progress to the bar, which was hindered somewhat by numerous pushings and shovings, as each member jockeyed to be the first served at the bar. Lightning, however, was having none of it, and merely continued to take his time pulling a large draught of, what Lola recognised as, Whyren's Reserve. Eventually, he handed the brimming vessel to a man, who'd broken away from the main body of revellers, and was standing patiently at the end of the bar, close to where Lola had been sitting.

He had not, insofar as Lola had noticed, spoken a word, but on receipt of this drink, gave an animated cry of, "Cheers, Light, Bud! Put it on me tab, wouldja?!" The barkeeper, who was now in his own, unique "unhurried, 'cos death gets us all eventually, anyway" way, tending to his next customer, shook his head upon his squat little neck, and mumbled something about not being anybody's bud.

5.

The Whyren's man ambled his way through the crowds of creatures, now streaming in behind the initial eager bunch, nodding heartily to various patrons as he made his way over to the booth where Alc and Lola were. He strode proudly, seemingly without intending to, so that he came across, not as arrogant, but contented. He was dressed in a flight suit, very similar to that which Lola was wearing, only his was of a royal blue material, which exquisitely set off his rugged-looking jet-black hair, and deep blue eyes. He slid himself into the seat next to the Sith, and chugged back most of his drink, before nudging the other man, conspiratorially, giving a far-from-subtle wink, and bellowing, "Who's your lady friend, Alc? Huh? Huh? Aren't you goin' t'introduce us?"

Both Alc and Lola glared at the man, panic more than evident on each of their faces, the Whyren's man, however, was oblivious to the hostile looks being hurled in his direction, and extended a manly hand to the young beauty, who was sat before him.

"Name's Garat Jax. Most just call me Jax." He smiled, warmly, the effect of which was almost immediate. Lola took his offering and grinned back...

"Pleased to meet you, Garat," she smiled, "I'm Lola Skywalker. Call me Lola."

In the seat opposite her, it was the Sith's turn to bristle, and Lola noted his reaction with mild satisfaction.

"Miss Skywalker, here," he began. "Is in a spot of bother, Jax."

"Hmmm," replied the other man, listening though not really hearing. He was still holding Lola's hand, and his eyes were fixed on hers. "Anything I can help you with?" he asked her.

Lola, glad of the distraction from the Sith, smiled ever more sweetly. Making no attempt to recover her hand, she spoke softly, "I'm not sure," at which point she found herself looking at Alc for some sort of confirmation, an act that she regretted almost instantly, discovering that she was once again caught in the snowstorm of his gaze.

Alc looked slightly bemused, and cleared his throat uneasily, "I'm afraid," he ventured, "I have to be going. See a man about a ship type thing, y'know. I'll meet you back here tomorrow, hopefully by then I'll be able to give you some sort of ...h-explanation for ...all of this."

With that he bowed hastily, turned on the heel of his sand crunchers, leapt up the gravelly steps, and dashed out onto the thronging Mos Eisley street.

6.

Early the next morning, a refreshed, and slightly more optimistic Lola strolled in through the entry lobby of the Cantina, and was amazed to find both Garat and the Sith already sitting in the booth, and deep in conversation. There were several empty glasses, of various shapes and sizes, scattered about the table. Alc looked up as she entered, gave a barely perceivable smile, and beckoned her over.

"Greetings, Miss Skywalker."

"Howdy, Lola. Feeling better?"

Lola shrugged, and wandered across to the booth. Despite all the empties, there was a freshly drawn tankard of Corellian Ale bubbling away amidst the clutter. It was thrust in her direction as she sat in the seat opposite the two men.

"I took the liberty," muttered Alc, trying in vain to cover up a telltale grin at the look of shock on the young girl's face. "Sleep well, Miss Skywalker?" It was more a statement, than an inquiry.

"Yes, thank you," she replied, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Well, actually, thanks to Garat here." She gestured amicably to the booth's other occupant.

Yrvron's steely gaze darted to his friend, who chuckled nervously, giving Alc a "Who me?" look, "Hey, cool it, Alc, Buddy. The kid had no place to stay, no money. All I did was get her a room at the Hotel."

Alc mumbled. And, Garat, winking stealthily at Lola, took her hand and began to stroke her soft skin, absently.

"Of course, had I known yesterday that she was royalty, I would have invited her back to my place, and treated her like the Princess she is." He wiggled his eyebrows comically, and Lola struggled to keep herself from giggling. The Sith, however, was less than amused at Garat's comment, and cleared his throat loudly.

"When I have your full attention," he fumed, enviously.

Garat's roving hands immediately found themselves beneath the table, firmly in his own lap, and the Princess's expression promptly sobered. The Sith's eyes glowered icily, no longer grey, but a blue so pale that they almost became white.

"Go ahead," Lola gulped, unable to divert her own eyes from those harsh diamond-like pools.

"I've been trying to explain to Garat, here," he began frostily. "But, he's just not ...grasping it."

"Okay, okay, okay," chortled the man in the flight suit, restored to his former jovial self, " So, I'm having trouble following the whole story."

"I only know a part of it myself, Garat," smiled Lola.

Alc sighed, obviously in need of further inspiration. He ordered another round of drinks. Garat rolled his eyes, giving off the impression that he either thought Alc deranged, or drunk on his own ego.

"Right," said Alc, downing a Tequila. He turned the glass over, and placed it on the table in front of him. An empty Whyren's glass was then overturned and placed a few inches from the shot glass, followed by an Ale tankard, which found itself in between the other two upside down vessels. The Sith spaced them out a little before pointing to each of them in turn, "Me, Lola, Jax." He nodded decisively, confirming that they understood before continuing, "Garat, the Whyren's glass, is from this time, that is, the present. Yes?"

Lola took a mouthful of ale, and nodded. That's simple enough, she thought.

"You, Miss Skywalker, are from the future, well, Jax's future, at any rate. Whereas I, the Tequila glass, am from your future."

"But," Garat interrupted, "That still doesn't explain how you two are here."

"Or," Lola added, "What's happened to my dad. I mean, why can't anyone find him?"

"Because he's not there."

Lola's brow furrowed.

"I'll explain it all," Alc promised. "Just bear with me." He ordered another round of drinks, seeing that both Garat and Lola had finished. A few of the glasses were cleared from the table as the fresh ones were deposited.

"Ok, Miss Skywalker, when we met up yesterday, you were correct in detecting that I, in my lifetime, was a Sith, but it was neither my choice to become one or to remain as such for so long. I knew no other way of life, as I was grafted in at a very early age, and trained under Vader himself. But enough about that, the fact is, I saw the wrong I was doing a few years ago, for me that is, to you, it would be a few years from your present, and for Jax it would be even further in the future. Since, I have been retraining, as a Jedi, and in order to attain Knighthood status, the Jedi Council, of my present, assign to me various tasks, utilising one of my Force talents, which is creating doorways in time. The mission I was assigned to last, without going into too much detail, was to infiltrate a group of space pirates, incidentally from your past, Lola, and Garat's future."

He paused, wondering if the Princess had noticed. It appeared not, she had downed half of her Ale already. He smiled inwardly, feeling something there, and brought in another up turned receptacle, which he positioned between the Whyren's glass, and Lola's Ale tankard.

"This is The Flaming Talon," he told them. "Soon to become one of the most famed and feared band of cut-throats to stalk the Outer Rim territories." He glanced to Lola.

"Yes," she affirmed. "I have heard of them. They were moving in on Coruscant."

"Yes, well," Alc went on. " My Council believed it might be a better idea if they didn't actually get that far this time."

"Why?" asked Lola.

"I'd rather not say," came his reply. "It will not happen. Not if I can help it." His jaw was set tight, his eyes, which had started to calm down to a placid sky blue, began to twinkle with that white-ish radiance once more. Atop the table his fists clenched with determination, as if trying to fight some inner demons, whilst in his minds eye he saw the massacre once more, was once again amidst the carnage, screams echoing all around him for, what seemed to be, an eternity, before he realised they were his, as he cradled the lifeless head in his lap, stroking the lava like curls that fell across her face, and not noticing the way the blood that oozed from the gash on her right cheek discoloured his robe.

"What is it?" Lola asked, her voice full of concern. She reached out across the table, and gently touched his fist. This seemed to bring the Sith back to the present, well the present present anyway.

"Huh? Oh, nothing. Never mind, like I said I won't let it happen this time." He smiled slightly.

"O' course, y'won't, Alc Buddy," Garat chipped in. "You're gonna fix it, right?"

"Right. Where was I? Round of drinks?"

The other two looked at each other, reading the worry on each others faces, "Yes," said the girl. "Please...go on..."

**__**


End file.
